


drop by drop

by wildcard_47



Series: from partridges to pear trees [10]
Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: And Then Quiet Cute Ones, M/M, Yelling Romantic Sentiments, body image issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 05:35:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17115401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildcard_47/pseuds/wildcard_47
Summary: For Day 10 of Carnivale, and the prompt "in hot water": Francis and James visit the Turkish baths.





	drop by drop

Despite having been banished from  _ H.M.S. Enterprise  _ before the strike of six bells – on Ross’s direct orders – and sent to the new Turkish baths in a small gig with Fitzjames at his side, Francis Crozier was unusually cheerful at his current circumstances. Although he desperately missed his men, and wished to know their updated condition as well as gain a full report of their now-docked vessel in Reykjavik, he was aware that this mission was no longer his to command. 

And since he had been (kindly but firmly) stripped of a Captain’s usual duties in Ross’s stead, even the most meager ones, it was only natural that his focus should shift to his highest personal priority: supporting his Second in all things as James slowly came back to health.

James had not wanted to visit the baths, and would not have come along, were it not for Francis’s insistence that he take the fresh air and spend e’en an hour in repose.

“It will be healthful,” the ship’s doctor had told them, following Fitzjames’s last full examination. “And shall reconstitute balanced humours.”

_ Bugger its healthfulness. You will feel warm,  _ Francis had hissed once the doctor’s back was turned.  _ Truly  _ warm _ , James. _

James, still far too pale and thin for his own good, had merely shrugged, as if a need as pedestrian as bone-deep  warmth  was not something they had craved beyond measure, just mere months beforehand.

_ And I will be with you,  _ Francis had also told him, once the good doctor had got in a snit at having his dolorous medical advice so ignored. Goodsir would not have done something so stupid as blindly lecture them.  _ I’ll not leave your side, James. We shall be comfortable and at our leisure, with no duties to occupy our minds. Able to take the water, and enjoy each other’s company. _

Thus, the journey and the destination were set.

After paying their entrance fee to the proprietor, they were shown to a large Roman-style communal changing room; thankfully, this particular institution was not the sort of place where one had to worry about seeing ladies in a state of undress, in a changing room or otherwise. The baths were also nearly empty, considering the early hour.

Francis, having lost what remaining modesty he had ever possessed on the long walk, doffed his borrowed clothes and donned a terrycloth dressing gown without much fuss. But James dawdled and hemmed and hawed and took his bloody time, refusing e’en to undress till Francis had visited the necessity and returned a few minutes later.

By the time they were shown to the baths, and had found the warmest pool of water in the entire bloody place, Francis was genuinely excited to take a dip. He could not remember the last time he had been fully submerged in warm water, much less bathed in anything apart from a pot or pitcher of water heated on a Fraser stove. Or some meager, frigid trickle of ice melt, dipped in a dirty flannel.

“I admit I am glad to see the steam,” he remarked aloud, as he hung his dressing gown on a nearby hook. This part of the baths was still deserted given the very early hour; there was not even a footman carrying towels to bother them. “Seems rather novel after all this time, hm?”

James’s gaze was fixed on the surface of the sea-green water. He was not smiling. He did not even seem excited by the prospect.

“James. Won’t you try it?”

In an encouraging way, Francis dipped a toe into the water, whistling under his breath at the utter all-consuming  _ heat  _ of it. A pleasant thrum radiated up into his ankle and leg, just from that single touch of it. His foot throbbed as sharply as if he’d been frostbitten and was warming up afterward.

“Wait,” James said finally. His eyes were now squeezed shut, hands tangling on the tie of his dressing gown. “Francis, I shall need you to – to avert your gaze. Till I get in.”

Francis’s mouth dropped open. He could do naught but stare.

“ _ What.” _

James’s eyes were still closed. His jaw tightened. “Please.”

“I – do you – think I’ve not ever seen a fellow officer in a state of undress?” Francis said lightly, in an attempt to get to the bottom of such reticence. “I assure you, my virtue has been well compromised in that regard.”

“This is no jest,” whispered James, in a quiet, audibly fraught voice. “Do not mock me.”

Francis was startled to hear the tremor that broke the end of this declaration.

“James,” he entreated, and crossed to his Second’s side. Hesitantly, he placed one hand on the  _ Erebus  _ Captain’s arm. “Of course I should never – are you not comfortable here? With – with me?”

“Come now, Francis. Of course I am safe with you. That much is obvious. But the plain fact remains that you have not truly seen me in a long time. It – I am not the man I was, you know.”

“Not the – ” some piece of Francis’s mind snapped clean in half, mainly in sheer bafflement at hearing such a strange and disheartened statement. “Wh – the sun didn’t bloody set on us for seven full months, you idiot! It – I have seen you from nearly every angle by this point, with or without your clothes. We goddamn well carried each other at the very end! I’ve – ” he lowered his voice, despite everything, “ – held you in my arms, James. I have known you.”

“But you have not seen all of me as you did so,” said James after a long silence, and pursed his lips slightly, as if he were back at the cairn trying not to weep. “I am not my former self, Francis, nor the man you first saw on  _ Terror _ . And I do not look – for Christ’s sake, my ribs are thinned and my stomach paunches out and my hips are bony and even my very skin sags over the absence of muscle in far too many places.” As Francis watched, startled beyond words, a small tear slipped down James’s cheek. “No one with functioning eyes would dare call me handsome now. Look like a shriveled old beggar.”

“James.”

Horrified, Francis strove to keep his voice level, gentled it with the patience of a Captain calming the most homesick ship’s boy, but even this much was beyond him at first. He wanted to weep. He wanted to enfold his Second into his arms and never release him again. What kind of hideously cruel person should ever look at the man before him and call him ugly, or shriveled, or make snide comments about the still-too-sharp curve of his ribs? Far as the rest of the world ought to be concerned, James was a hero. He had used those prized walking legs to travel hundreds of miles, and by sheer will of effort had remained standing at the end.

“You are –  _ beautiful _ to me,” he finally rasped out.

Clearly startled, James glanced up at once, surprise gracing his sharp features.

“I don’t give a good goddamn about the – plate-glass idiot from the thrice-damned expedition portraits. I shouldn’t care if you ever curled your hair with the tongs or donned a dress uniform again in this bloody lifetime! Jesus fucking Christ, man, I – I did not see you home so you could insult your physical person so fully in my own hearing! I brought you home because I could not bear to be without you. I brought you home because I intend to love you within an inch of your life for the rest of our goddamned fucking existence, and God damn any person who should cruelly demean you over such things. God damn anyone who would try to take that away from us!”

More tears streaked down James’s cheeks, settling in the divots by his mouth and dripping down past his throat.

Now indignant, and well on his way into a searing fit of temper, Francis took both of James’s hands in his. “By God, James, I do not care if you should ever again so much as resemble a sea-rated midshipman. You can get as fat and red-cheeked as Henry fucking Tudor or the entire goddamned Admiralty and I should still want you. Do you not see that?”

“But it – I am not truly well, Francis. It shows on every new line in my face.”

“I know that.” Francis slipped one hand up to clasp the inside of James’s wrist, as if they were merely exchanging a long handshake. “I do. But you will feel better in future, James, and you will look and seem more like yourself, given time. And however you change in the interim, as long you are fed and healed… the rest does not matter. Because it means  _ you _ are here.”

Releasing James’s hands, Francis clasped his Second by both shoulders, and then, on a whim, brought one palm down to rest against the junction of James’s chest where the fabric of his dressing gown met bare skin. Under his hand, James’s heart beat a loud and steady rhythm.

“And you are here,” he whispered, as tears rushed to his eyes. He could not yet look James full in the face. “Always.”

When Francis finally glanced up, James met his impassioned gaze, and managed to nod, once.

“Yes.” James touched Francis’s hand, rubbing the pad of one thumb across the inside of Francis’s wrist, and then clasped the _Terror_ Captain's shoulder with his free hand. Finally, he stepped backward. “Yes. Erm. You are right about that.”

“Of course I am right,” Francis said with a shaky laugh, dashing water from his eyes with the back of his palm. “And I am currently bloody fucking freezing, without a stitch of clothing to warm me. So if you do not get in this boiling body of water at once, then I shall have to push you in face-first, gown and all. Doctor’s orders.”

James’s expression actually brightened so much his cheeks pinked up. His eyes widened with renewed suspicion. “You would not dare.”

“I would and I shall,” countered Francis as he finally stepped into the pool. By the time he was submerged up to his chest he was so happy he could do naught but groan with sheer relief as he searched for purchase on the comfortable tile bench. “Jesus  _ God.” _

Tipping his head back till the crown of his head hit the rim of the pool, he let out a shaky breath, and let his eyes drift closed.

“Oh, James. It’s bloody fucking  _ incredible _ .”

“....I shall join you, then,” James said after a long moment, and crossed to the nearby wall, where Francis’s gown still hung on its hook. 

Quickly, he doffed his own gown, crossed to the stairs, and got in.

“Don’t worry,” Francis said lightly as James stepped into the pool, and moved to join him. Although his body thrummed with sheer delight at both the enveloping sensation of warmth and the not-inestimable success of having talked James out of such fearsome melancholy, he thought he might feel even better if he could get James to smile. “I did glance away, so as not to tarnish your reputation as a gentleman of honour.”

After a beat of silence, James just splashed him in response.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I got these two naked and alone in an elegant room full of hot baths and they didn't at least fool around. TRAGEDY. (But also, I would not want to fool around in a bath house, omg. So maybe that's for the best?)


End file.
